


Antithesis

by scribblscrabbl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Sibling Rivalry, sherlock does what he wants, this is pretty absurd, this is what John has to put up with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblscrabbl/pseuds/scribblscrabbl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sherlock and Mycroft impersonate and try to one up each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Antithesis

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this fabulous prompt](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21766.html?thread=130123782#t130123782) at sherlockbbc-fic. Just a silly little piece to pass the time.

The murder of a divorced, middle-aged drug addict with a penchant for expensive escorts wouldn't normally turn his head. That the victim had a carefully-buried connection to MI5 that called for an impromptu visit to headquarters makes him pay attention. 

"I'll take the case."

"What?" John blinks and he can hear the gears turning laboriously. "Five seconds ago you called it utterly dull and beneath you."

"I changed my mind. It's positively fascinating." And by fascinating he means he'll take any chance he gets to shake up his brother's orderly little world. Even better if he can make Mycroft do a bit of _legwork_.

"Okay." Lestrade looks at him suspiciously. "Keep me in the loop. Don't do anything illegal."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he says over his shoulder as he flips up his collar and catalogues the most efficient ways of infiltrating the British Security Service. 

*

"Mr. Holmes, sir, it's an absolute pleasure to meet you. Whatever you need during your visit, I'm your man." The clearance officer who greets him is young and nervous, tongue stumbling over his enthusiasm, indicative of a childhood lisp that made him painfully selective with his words. Apparently Mycroft's got himself something of a fan club. He always did enjoy saying that talent sows the seeds of power but reputation is what makes it flourish.

"Well, how very thoughtful of you," Sherlock glances at the boy's name plate to add a little personal touch, " _Aidan_."

He flushes at the informal address. "Is someone expecting you, sir?"

"Ah, no, this was all very unexpected. An urgent matter of national importance, top-secret stuff. If I told you, then I'd have to kill you." Sherlock tops it off with a showy wink as John struggles valiantly to keep a straight face. "But you needn't worry about that, carry on."

"Mycroft's gonna kill you," John informs him as they walk down the hall and round the corner.

"Lends an otherwise boring day a bit of excitement, don't you think?" 

"This is why you took the damn case, isn't it. Do you even know where you're going?"

Sherlock checks his watch. Five minutes and 18 seconds. 

"Not a clue. Let's try door number three." He swipes the badge he avoided surrendering to Mycroft after Baskerville with a bit of obfuscation and a timely phone call about an imminent terrorist threat.

It's a lab with rows and rows of computers, and agents hunched over them, focus unbroken by the sound of the door flying open with a bang.

The officer at the front, monitoring the most impressive technological spread, stands up with a frown. 

"What's the meaning of this? Who are you?"

"I'm terribly sorry, I thought this was the loo. Mycroft Holmes." Sherlock extends his hand.

The man shakes it, looking baffled and delighted in equal measures. "Mycroft Holmes? _The_ Mycroft Holmes?"

"Call me Myc." Sherlock smiles winningly. He's not naive enough to think he's making the slightest dent in his brother's meticulously cultivated reputation, not one Mycroft wouldn't easily smooth over anyway, but at the very least it's more fun than he's had in weeks. 

"Officer Tim Jones. Pardon me for saying but I thought you'd be, well, taller."

John masks his laugh with a loud cough. 

Ten seconds. Five, four, three, two, one. 

They all turn to the door when it flies open a second time, revealing Mycroft swinging his umbrella like he's about to take off quite a few heads with it. He's in his charcoal suit and cufflinks, which can only mean he's been in meetings with boring people of relative importance all day. Goodie.

"Who are _you_?" Jones glares at Mycroft, who's looking more murderous by the second.

"My darling brother, how good of you to join us." 

"Oh, you're Sherlock Holmes, the amateur detective!" 

Sherlock bristles a little. Mycroft's eyes take on a dangerous glint.

"Amateur, yes. And even that I couldn't have achieved without Mycroft's help. He taught me everything I know."

"Oh, don't be so modest, Sherlock. I've _begged_ for his help on a number of occasions." Sherlock leans towards Jones as if divulging a well-kept secret. "Quite frankly, he should be heralded as a national treasure."

“Ah, but Mycroft is the mastermind. I just do the legwork.”

“It’s the diet. Doesn’t sit well on my best days.”

Sherlock would’ve pushed Mycroft as far as he dared go if John didn’t decide in that moment to take matters into his own hands.

“Ah, we have matters of national importance to attend to, remember? Don’t want top secret— _stuff_ to go unattended,” he says while shoving them out the door and apologizing to Jones for the bother.

Out in the corridor the tension between them cools a few degrees but Sherlock still feels it, like a hit of cocaine to his central nervous system.

“Unbelievable.” John crosses his arms over his chest.

“He started it,” they respond without missing a beat.

“Really. Just unbelievable. Not a moment’s peace with the two of you around,” John says before walking off.

They stand beside each other for a moment, eyes fixed on John’s retreating form.

“What’s he on about?” 

Sherlock frowns, Mycroft raises his eyebrows delicately, and they make a half-hearted attempt to understand how the ordinary mind works.

“No idea.”


End file.
